As Time Turns
by fierynmusic
Summary: Can fate be changed or is it inevitable? A desperate battle for the survival of all she's ever known puts Hermione on the path to discovering whether or not time can be altered. Hermione/Tom Riddle jr.
1. The Beginning

Hello! This is my first Harry Potter fic. I just watched Half Blood Prince and was inspired...for some reason I love the bad guys and have had riddle on the brain. So this story is for him :) Hermione Granger/Tom Riddle jr. takes place a few hours after Deathly Hallows. Hope you like :) oh...and review

I don't own Harry Potter. Nope.

* * *

**_The Beginning_**

_"You have no control over what the other guy does. You only have control over what you do_" _A.J. Kitt_

Thunder crashed overhead. The storm was in full force and attacked earth with a vengeance. Thick clouds boiled over one another, filling the murky darkness of the evening sky with black. Deadly bolts of lightning periodically set the horizon on fire, usually forking across the clouds but occasionally slicing into the ground somewhere in the distance.

Every few minutes the ground would tremble violently, encouraging Hermione to run faster. She had just reached the protective trees of the Forbidden Forest when a particularly large quake sent her sprawling into the mud. With a few choice words she picked herself up and continued on. Only a little further...

The events of the last few hours played through her mind.

_When Harry had returned with the news that Voldemort was dead, the aftermath was bittersweet. So many lives had been lost that night, yet it seemed that the dark cloud that had taken over these last few months had been lightened. The great weight each person shouldered was lifted. So much had been destroyed and much was to be rebuilt, but tonight was for celebration. The fight was finally over, as the Dark Lord was rid forever from the world._

_And so they had celebrated. They had raised their wands towards the heavens in a moment of mourning before filling the sky with the bright sparks of rejoice. The atmosphere was mournful and hopeful and ecstatic all at once._

_And then everything had fallen apart._

_The first earthquake was a surprise and did not cause a particular amount of concern. It lasted barely a fraction of a second before subsiding. Half an hour later the second quake hit. Stronger than the first and lasting slightly longer, but no cause for concern. It wasn't until the third quake shook the earth that anyone begun to worry. _

_Britain was not prone to earthquakes. It was not situated on any major faults and therefore did not have a significant quake history. Three such events within an hour wasn't only strange, it was downright bizarre. Something was amiss._

_An hour and a half and six quakes later (each of which had grown in intensity and duration ), a man had apparated into the Hogwart's courtyard. A few of the battle survivors went to meet him. He brought news of horror. The earthquakes were being felt all over Great Britain. The source was determined to be somewhere in the ocean off the western coast. The continuous shaking had apparently created a barrage of waves to hit the shore. As the quake strength grew, so did the size of the waves. They were quickly eating away at the island. Already, miles of low lying coastland lay beneath the waves, and that area was growing at an alarming pace. Muggle scientists predicted the sea would swallow the entire isle within three days without intervention. It was a modern day Atlantis. _

_The last detail shared by the man was the most disturbing. It caused the weight, temporarily removed, to fall back heavier than even upon the shoulders of all whom heard his words. In the sky, visible to all close the western coast, the Dark Mark barred its skeletal smile. _

_This was met with confusion. The Dark Lord was dead, slain that very evening. How could his mark be present? It was impossible..._

_Everyone held their breath as they waited impatiently for more news. A steady stream of new arrivals confirmed the first man and expanded on his story. The earthquake epicentre had been examined. It was determined that the cause was magic, and that magic was traced back to Voldemort's wand. _

It was ingenious, Hermione had to admit as she narrowly missed a sharp branch. The Dark Lord had insured that his demise would bring about the destruction of everything else. Even in death, he would destroy them all...The spell he had used was powerful and unique. No wizard or with could figure out how to stop it. It would certainly continue until Great Britain lay in runes under the tumultuous ocean, and was anyone's guess whether it would stop even after that had been achieved.

_It was decided that every able magic wielder stationed at Hogwarts would be sent to the coast. A last ditch plan had been formed. They would try to create a massive shield to protect the coast, hold it as long as possible. It was obvious that this plan had many faults, would probably be ineffective but it was their only choice. As Hermione prepared to apparate she felt a hand on her should, stopping her. She turned to face Minerva Mcgonagall. _

"_Not you," the elderly professor whispered. "There is something you must do."_

_Mcgonagall feared the worst-there was no way the shield plan would work. She confided in Hermione an entirely different, very illegal, and exceptionally dangerous idea. What if someone could put a stop to all of their troubles before they started? If they could prevent the magic destroying Great Britain from ever being cast?_

That idea had led Hermione to her current position. She fought through thrones and dense bush, making her way towards the clearing her professor had mentioned. It couldn't be far now.

"_What I am going to suggest is dangerous-likely to prove deadly. Don't feel like you must do this, Hermione." Mcgonagall warned, keeping her voice low. "If there was a way to prevent all of this from ever happening, would you take it?"_

"_Yes." Hermione had responded without missing a beat. " I would do anything." _

_Mcgonagall closed her eyes, preparing herself. "It may be possible for a single person to go back in time, back before Voldemort has risen to power. That person would have the chance to defeat him before he does all this." She motioned to the rumble of Hogwarts. "They may be able to save us."_

_Hermione had accepted the professor's idea. She quietly snuck away from the others, keeping the plan secret from everyone else. Mcgonagall was certain many would oppose the plan. The professor had revealed that she had not surrendered Hermione's time turner to the Ministry of Magic in third year. Instead, the professor had claimed it had been destroyed and instead hid the device. It now lay in a sealed box, half a foot underground in a clearing somewhere in the Forbidden Forest. _

As Hermione broke through a particularly tight thicket, the ground heaved. Hermione forget how many tremors had passed, they were now so numerous. After catching her balance the girl hurried onward, picking up her pace.

After what seemed like an eternity Hermione stumbled into a clearing. Without the protection of leaves the rain hurled down full force and obscured her vision. She stumbled around, wasting precious moments looking for the sign Mcgonagall had told her about. She was about to give up and try to find another clearing when another quake hit, sending her tumbling. A sharp pain burst through her wrist, causing her to gasp. She could feel hot tears running down her face and warming her cheeks. She slammed her good hand into the ground in anger. It was then that she noticed the sign.

She moved her hand. There it was, burnt into the watery ground. The intricate rune glowed softly green against black soil. Hermione felt her heart leap. This was it. She looked around for anything to dig with. Finding nothing, and not wanting to risk harming the delicate instrument that lay beneath with magic, she used her hands to move the soil. The ground was hard and the rain kept washing the displaced soil back into the hole. The box was not buried deep but proved difficult to reach. When her nails finally made contact with silver she felt her heart leap. She dragged the box out of the ground.

"Alohamora." She whispered quietly. The star shaped lock binding the box broke open with a click. Barely containing her excitement she opened the lid. The golden charm lay on blue silk. "Thank goodness." She murmured. What would she have done if the time turner was gone?

She picked up the device, sighing as the gold warmed to her fingers. The familiar feel of it was comforting. She quickly did a calculation in her head, figuring out just how many turns it would take her to reach the right year. Her goal was 1938- the first year that Voldemort (then Tom Riddle) had entered Hogwarts. She recalled that he had been friendless that year, and wouldn't have that much experience with magic. It would be easy dispose of him.

She turned the device the calculated amount. Crossing her fingers, Hermione prayed this would work. The time turner was very accurate with small time travels, but the larger the time distance the less accurate the device got. She could only hope to arrive in the desired year. With one last look at her surrounding, Hermione slipped the device over her head. All was still for a moment, and then she was overcome with dizziness as the turner whirled her back through the years.

In the clearing, the image of a girl with long bushy hair wavered for a moment before flickering out of existence. Rain quickly washed mud to fill the hole, remove her footprints. In a few brief moments it was like the girl never existed. A tremor shook the earth.


	2. Missing the Bulls Eye

Yay! Chapter 2...this took me way to long to write because for some reason I felt the need to write the chapter out on paper...and then I had to type the whole thing. Something not to do again. Thanks go to those of you who reviewed...I hope this chapter meets your expectations :) ooo and please review

i don't own harry potter

* * *

**Missing the Bulls-Eye **

_"It's choice - not chance - that determines your destiny." Jean Nidetch_

It was relatively warm for September. Classes were over for the day and most of Hogwart's students took this opportunity to enjoy the weather. The lake was most frequented, followed closely by the school's various courtyards. No one wanted to waste the sunshine in the murky depths of the Forbidden Forest. Because of this, no human observed the bizarre occurrence that was to take place that day.

At exactly 5 o'clock that evening, in a clearing not far from the edge of the forest a glitch in time occurred. A minuscule section of the fabric of space, roughly humanoid in shape, ripped open for a fraction of a second. The air wavered, sharpened, solidified. In its place stood a girl.

Hermione winced at the slight nausea that overcame her senses. Each time she time traveled she experienced the sensation, and like every other time it passed quickly. The brightness of her surroundings stung. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but when they did she took in the view. There was no sign that she had traveled more than 50 years into the past. Everything was identical (minus the rain) to the clearing she had left.

Removing the time turner from around her neck, Hermione hiked towards the direction of the school. It took much less time to reach it than the original journey to the clearing. As she reached the edge of the clearing she was hit by déjà vu. The sharp torrents of Hogwart's pierced the sky. The sun shone high from atop the astronomy tower, basking the courtyards in a warm glow. Hermione panicked. What if she had only traveled back a few days in time? She had never heard of anyone jumping backwards more than a few weeks. Time turners were only meant for short trips. Upon closer examination however, Hermione realized she didn't recognize even one of the students flocking the grounds. That was a good sign.

People turned to look at her as she walked by. Most stared, a couple pointed and one or two laughed. "Right," Hermione groaned, realizing what a mess she was. Robes torn and bloodied from the battle, covered in mud from numerous falls, twigs in her hair and sopping wet. So much for blending in.

By the time Hermione reached the front steps, someone was waiting for her. He appeared about as shocked as she was. Sure, he looked a lot younger then she was used to but the resemblance was certainly there. His red-gold hair reached his waist and behind his half-moon spectacles his eyes twinkled with a familiar sparkle.

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione choked out. She had hoped to avoid any teachers until she could come up with some reason for being at the school.

Dumbledore eyed her for a moment. "I don't believe we have met before." Hermione attempted to respond but the professor held up a hand, silencing her. "I feel it may be wise to acquaint ourselves, no? Please follow me."

The professor walked quickly and Hermione found herself running to catch up. He eventually stopped, leading her into a classroom she had never visited before. His office was hidden in the back. Entering it, Hermione felt the déjà vu return full force. The room was cluttered with trinkets, bits of this and pieces of that that Hermione recognized from the office of the Dumbledore she knew.

Said professor motioned for her to take a seat. "Let's start from the basics. What's your name?"

Hermione thought for a moment. Would it be dangerous to use her real name? Granger was a relatively common sir name, and she had seen a few students with that name on various trophies and awards. She decided throwing one more Granger into Hogwart's history wouldn't hurt. "I'm Hermione Granger."

"Well, Ms. Granger, as you already seem to know who I am there is no need to introduce myself. Lemon drop?" He offered her a bowl.

"No thank you."

"Now, which year are you from?" Dumbledore asked conversationally, putting the bowl behind him.

"7th year, sir." Hermione tried to look him in the eyes.

"Interesting," The professor pondered her answer briefly. "I happen to make an effort to know a little about each student who enters this school. Not to brag," he chuckled softly, "but I seem to memorize every student's name." He suddenly fixated all his attention on the girl in front of him. "I have never seen you before, Ms. Granger. Isn't that odd? Do you think you could explain to me why?"

Hermione gulped. She had been caught and now she'd be sent away. Her plan had failed before it even began. She only had one choice, really. It was desperate and crazy but just might work, knowing Dumbledore. "I do attend Hogwarts, but in the future."

This revelation did not seem to shock the professor. He actually looked rather amused. "And why is it that you have come to the past?"

"Something terrible has happened. In order to fix the problem I was sent back in time. You see, the solution didn't exist in the future." That part was true, but Hermione finished with a lie she hoped would convince him of her story. "You were the one who sent me back."

"Sounds like something I would do." Dumbledore smiled. "I've never favored the normal way to doing things. Got me into quite a bit of trouble in my youth. There was this one incident with a troublesome house elf in China..."

Hermione tuned him out. He believed her? That was...really quite amazing, considering the insanity of the whole story. She briefly considered telling him the plan, telling him about Riddle. With his help it should be easy to prevent the future. But even if Dumbledore believed her accusations about the boy, there would be others who would not. The boy would be made aware of her intentions and the plan would become difficult to execute. No, she would stay quiet about the boy for now.

"Well," Dumbledore caught her attention again. "How did you manage to transport yourself in the past? I'm really quite curious about the whole thing."

Hermione pulled the golden charm out from her pocket. She laid it on the desk before the professor. "It's called a time turner."

"Fascinating," Dumbledore murmured, examining the object. "The way the magic is intertwined-it's quite revolutionary you know. I don't believe we have invented these yet."

"Not until 1967." Hermione confirmed.

"Hmm..." Picking up the time turner, Dumbledore squinted. "It appears to be broken. See for yourself." He handed the charm over.

Hermione's heart dropped like a stone. Examining the object closely, she could see the inner wheel of the device was grotesquely twisted. "It was only meant for short trips. That last one must have been too much."

"Don't sound so glum." The professor's voice was much to upbeat for the situation, Hermione felt. "I'll take a good look at it. I've always been decent with magic-it should be fixed in no time."

She hoped so. Hermione had seen the soon-to-be Headmaster perform numerous miracles before and convinced herself this would be one of them. The alternative was overly depressing and didn't need to be considered unless necessary.

Dumbledore continued his interrogation. "So this task you need to complete- does it require you stay at Hogwarts?"

Hermione nodded. "It is absolutely critical."

"Then by all means you will have to stay. We'll enroll you in your classes immediately." With a flourish of his wand, Dumbledore procured a scroll from the air. He handed this over to the girl with a quill.

She noticed her name and grade were already inked at the top. Following were seven lines. Hermione filled these in with advanced courses she would have taken that year if she wasn't off hunting horcruxes with Harry and Ron. After she was finished she handed the parchment back to Dumbledore.

"Excellent. I will process this as soon as I can. Meanwhile, we need to get you settled in. I presume you have been sorted into a house before?"

Hermione nodded. "Yes. I'm a Gryffindor."

"I see." Dumbledore considered. "I'd like you to be sorted at breakfast again tomorrow. It will provide us with a way to introduce you to your fellow classmates. The only thing missing now is a cover story."

"I hope you have something." Hermione informed him. "Honestly, I haven't given it any thought." After Mcgonagall had explained the plan to her, things had moved very quickly.

"Your mother, Lily Granger, is a witch." Dumbledore responded immediately. "She is a reporter for the Daily Prophet- under an alias, you understand. For privacy reasons you can't tell your classmates her pen name. Your father is a wealthy muggle, heir to some vast fortune passed on to him when his grandfather died. He owns a couple banks around the country. Let's call him Jonathon Granger. You were sent to boarding school in America. I will make up some transcripts in case anyone snoops around your files. Lily wanted you to attend Hogwarts in your final year to insure your education was up to European standards."

"I think I got all that." Hermione was impressed. The story was pretty good for being spur-of-the-moment.

A knock interrupted them. "Ah, just in time." Dumbledore confided in Hermione before raising his voice. "Come in."

Hermione did not consider herself a shallow person. Tons of things were more important than a person's looks (mainly intelligence), and more than anyone she knew not to judge a book by its cover. However, the first thing Hermione noticed about the person who walked through the door was how absolutely beautiful he was.

Tall, he was built slim but toned. His robes fit him nicely, accentuating his extremely chiseled body. She forced her eyes to his face-a mistake. His skin was pale but seemed to glow from within. His lips-rosy and full and oh-so-sensuous. His jaw line was strong, cheek bones high, features angular. She eyed his dark hair, tousled like he had tried to make it sit pretty but it had broken free ever so slightly. And his eyes, they were the best (or worst, if you were a time traveling refugee with a mission who did not need to be distracted by amazing eyes).

They were the shade of green you would expect to see in some mythical forest. Brighter and much richer than any emerald, they caught Hermione and pulled her in until she found she couldn't look away. After a few brief seconds she realized she was staring. She broke her gaze, cheeks reddening.

The boy didn't seem to notice. He looked past her towards Dumbledore. "Who is that?" he asked, nodding towards her. His voice caused her stomach to flip. Clear, commanding, and at a pitch that was all at once masculine but not to low.

"Hermione Granger." Dumbledore explained. "She'll be transferring into the 7th year class." He turned to the girl in question. "This is the Head Boy. He'll show you were you can rest tonight. Good luck with the sorting tomorrow."

Without waiting to see if Hermione would follow, the Head Boy left the room. Hermione scrambled to her feet, hurrying after him. She caught up fairly quickly. "I'm sorry I don't have time to show you around the school today." He addressed her. "It's always busy first week back. Hopeful tomorrow I'll be able to give you a tour."

"You don't have to." Hermione put in. "I'm sure I'll figure it out on my own." After six years of attending Hogwarts, she had the layout down pat. Not that he could know that, of course.

"Up to you. The whole school's one big maze. You never know what you're going to stumble into." He responded. As he led her to her temporary quarters, he pointed out a few important land marks. The Head Boy finally stopped before a portrait of a quail. "This is one of our school's guest rooms. You'll stay here until tomorrow morning. After the sorting you'll move to the wing of your respective house. I'll come by in the morning to take you to the great hall."

"Thanks." Hermione responding after he unlocked the portrait/door.

"No problem. If you have any questions just ask for me." The Head Boy smiled and Hermione's brain stopped working for a moment. "My name's Tom Riddle."

Hermione's brain sped into hyper drive as he walked away. She stood frozen in the doorway as the future Dark Lord disappeared around the corner. "Shit." She muttered. It was the only way to describe the situation. She was supposed to have arrived when Riddle was young and vulnerable, new at magic. Instead, she had just met him fresh into 7th year and presumably very experienced at things like dueling and the dark arts. The time turner must have broken while her trip through time was incomplete, dumping her in the year 1944 instead of the intended 1938.

Floating dazedly into the room, she let the door slam shut. Hermione slid to the floor in a depressed heap. "This can't be happening." She shut her eyes for a few moments before opening them. Still in the same room. She tried pinching her arm. That defiantly hurt-she was awake. There was no getting out of this mess. She was trapped in the past with a seemingly impossible mission to destroy a very dangerous man.

She figured someone high up must hate her.


	3. Meditated Murder

Chapter 3!!! I quite like writing this story, it certainly has me addicted. Thanks to those who reviewed, it encouraged me to update faster. I'm trying to figure out where this story will go. I started with a clear idea of the beginning and a clear idea of the end but the middle has me a bit flustered. Ideas are welcome, as always :) Please enjoy and review

I do not own Harry Potter,

I do not own Harry Potter,

I do not own Harry Potter,

That would be cool

*_too the tune of "we wish you a merry christmas_

* * *

_**Meditated Murder**_

_"All charming people have something to conceal" Cyril Connolly_

Hermione groaned as sunlight slipped through the cracks of her eyelids. "Don't wanna wake up." She mumbled, flipping over and pulling the pillow over her head. It worked for awhile, until she ran out of oxygen and had to surface. At first she was confused- where were the wet mattresses and mildew smell? This didn't look like the tent Harry insisted or carting around. Pulling herself up she looked around. Reality hit Hermione like a load of bricks.

Right. She was in the past, entrusted with a plan to save humanity, and she had already messed it up. Riddle was supposed to be eleven years old! She could deal with a little kid, scare him away from Hogwarts or something, but what was she supposed to do with the teenage version of the Dark Lord? She figured he must have already created at least two horcruxes (possibly more), and his army of death eaters would already be well on the way to completion. There would be no way a few well placed scare tactics would send the 17-year-old running. It looked like the plan just got a lot harder.

She rolled out of bed, surveying herself in the room's full length mirror. Too tired to clean herself up the previous evening, Hermione still looked awful. She decided a shower was in good order. She was going to need to be in as good condition as possible to face this new adversary. Twenty minutes later she emerged from the generous sized washroom feeling decently refreshed. After performed a few hair spells and calming her frizzy curls into softer waves, she was pleasantly surprised to spot a bundle of clean robes on the night table. Hermione had just finished changing when there was a knock on the portrait/door.

She opened the door to face _him_. For the briefest second her brain blanked at the sight of the pretty boy but she quickly scowled. "Morning." She grumbled. Hermione had no desire to talk to a murderer, albeit an incredibly gorgeous one.

Tom raised an eyebrow. "Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" he teased. At her glare he ran a hand through his (perfect) hair. "Ok, stop it. Just because you're not a morning person doesn't mean you have to take it out on poor innocent people who are just trying to be friendly."

Hermione unclenched her fists. "Calm." She told herself, resisting the erg to inflict as much damage as she could on the boy. He would grow up to terrorize the world. Maybe should could put an end to it now. One little spell, and all the future destruction would be prevented. It would be risky but perhaps she could surprise him...she looked up at his eyes to see him studying her with a peculiar look on his face.

Once he noticed her attention, the look was replaced with the normal smile. "Well, we shouldn't keep Dumbledore waiting. Great hall's this way." Tom motioned for Hermione to follow.

She kept what she hoped he would take as a polite distance from him. After some thought, she concluded it wouldn't be smart to try something now. Hermione knew nothing about what power he currently possessed. It was more than likely that he would block her attacks and at the very least destroy the element of surprise for future attempts. At the very worst, he would kill her. Hermione had a feeling that was closer to the mark.

Tom came to a stop in front of the entrance to the Great Hall. Inside, students were seated at the four tables and the Headmaster Dippet was addressing his audience. Hermione couldn't quite make out his words but apparently Tom could. He summarized for her. "New student...Hermione Granger...you came from America?"

Hermione nodded, trying to look convincing.

"Interesting. Always wanted to visit America. Apparently they don't have restrictions on underage magic use." He caught her gaze and smiled.

Hermione thought he was a good faker. For all the smiling he did, it never reached his eyes. They were always slightly cold, calculating. Part of the facade he put on for the world. It was easy to see how he could have everyone twisted around his little finger. Speaking of which...she should avoid those eyes in the future. She remembered he was excellent at legilimency, and she certainly didn't need the future Dark Lord snooping around her brain.

"He's finished." Tom whispered. "You should enter now. Just walk up to the front and Dippet will show you what to do. The sorting's a piece of cake."

Hermione happily took her leave from the boy. At a slightly faster clip then necessary she approached the front, barely noticing the stares she received from all around. It didn't take her long to reach the raised dais. The Headmaster motioned for to take a seat on the stool placed front and center. "Now Ms. Granger, the hat will reveal the truth!" Dippet spook theatrically to the audience. He placed the sorting hat down on her head.

The hat's tinny voice rang in Hermione's ear. It sounded a good deal more excited than the first time it had sorted her into a house. "Really! You're a time traveler- quite exciting news for a ratty old hat like me. Not that this hasn't happened before of course-"

"It's happened before?" Hermione thought.

"Of course! Not frequently, I can only think of a couple other times that it's happened. Or, should I say, will happen. Oh I don't really know. Times relative to a charmed piece of clothing like me. Doesn't flow in a straight line."

Hermione was having a bit of trouble following the hat's rant. It seemed to sense her confusion and stopped, getting back to the matter at hand.

"Well, I guess you want to know what house I'll be placing you in this time. Like before you're obviously a Gryffindor. That hasn't changed. But I wonder, will that house allow you to complete your quest? It seems Slytherin might be a more practical house for your needs. Curious....very curious..."

"If you wouldn't mind," Hermione put in, "I'd like to be in Gryffindor. I'm going to need some time off from my quest and I don't think being around Slytherin's 24/7 will do much for my mental health."

"They're really not that bad." The hat replied conversationally. "But if you're absolutely sure..."

"Absolutely." The girl responded with energy.

"GRYFFINDOR!" The sorting hat boomed. There was a chorus of hoots and applause as Hermione took the offered spot at the said house's table. A pretty blond with a very dreamy expression shook her hand. She looked a couple years younger than Hermione, potentially 5th year. "I'm Morine Lovegood." The girl offered.

"I guess you already know who I am." Hermione said warmly, examining the girl. Morine defiantly bore a resemblance to her future relative, Luna.

Morine introduced her to a couple of the other Gryffindor's sitting nearby. The redhead was Morti Weasley, the stuffy looking girl was Minerva Mcgonagall (another familiar-sort-of face), the handsome brooding type was Henry Longbottom, and the dark haired first year was Tyrus Potter. Morine mentioned a few more names that Hermione did not recognize before dragging Hermione's attention back to her.

"So what class do you have first?" Morine asked softly, her gaze focused on something over the other girls' shoulder.

"I'm not quite sure yet. Dumbledore didn't have time to give me my schedule yesterday." Hermione admitted.

"Hmm...you should go speak to the Head Boy. He'll be able to get it for you." Motioning to the Slytherin table (which Hermione noted was missing the afor-mentioned Head Boy) Morine continued. "His name is Tom Riddle. I don't see him now but he's easy to spot. Rather handsome, actually."

"We've already met." Hermione responded quickly.

If possible, Morine's expression grew even dreamier than before. "Nice boy, wouldn't you say?"

"Of course." Hermione pretended to agree. "Wonderful."

Morine's answer was expected. Riddle seemed to exert a large degree of influence over everyone. "He's top of his classes, Head Boy, always friendly if you have a question. The perfect gentleman."

Hermione wasn't going to argue. She had to admit that if she knew nothing about him from the future she'd agree with Morine. He was good at hiding his true nature. "I'd better go look for him." She lied to Morine, getting up. There was no way she was going to search out Tom. She'd hunt down Dumbledore and hopefully he could give her a schedule.

That was the plan anyway. It seemed plans of late weren't working out for Hermione. She had barely left the Great Hall when a hand reached out and snared her arm. Tom handed her a piece of paper. "That's your schedule." The boy explained. "Your first class is Defence against the Dark Arts-same as me. I'll walk you to the classroom."

"Thank you." Hermione figured she'd try to be as polite as possible. Tom had given her no reason to hate him and it would be weird if she made it obvious that she did. He was supposed to be the charming, sweet Head Boy- she'd pretend to fall for his acting until she could think of a way to execute her plan.

They walked in silence. Tom tried to get her talking. "Congratulations on making Gryffindor."

"Thank you." She answered again. Looking for something to say other than that, "What house are you?"

"Slytherin." He let a little smirk slide by. "You may notice that many Gryffindor's and Slytherin's don't get along. Don't take it personally, it's just inter-house rivalry."

Just inter-house rivalry. Hermione bit her lip to stop herself from snorting. More like a full-fledged war. Some things never change.

"We're here." Tom the gentleman opened the door to a darkened classroom for her. The blinds were shut and most of the seats were already filled. She looked for an empty spot at the front but nothing was available. With a sigh she sat at the very back by the wall. Curses were carved into the wood of her desk and her seat rocked back and forth. She whispered a stabilizing charm under her breath and the motion stopped.

"Nice, Granger. They must teach you something in America." Hermione's eyes opened wider at that voice. He'd better not sit there-

He did. Tom pulled out the chair from the desk beside Hermione's and lowered himself down. She could have sworn he could feel her distress as his ever present smile grew larger. "I hope you don't mind if I take this seat?" Not waiting for an answer, he dumped his armload of books on the desk.

Wonderful. Just wonderful. Hermione already knew this would be the longest class of her life.


	4. Irritation and Relief

Two chapters in one day! I've been struck by the muse of inspiration, what can I say. Soon the plot will thicken...remember to review!  
Sadly, Harry Potter I do not own

* * *

**_Irritation and Relief_**

_"Correct me if I'm wrong, but hasn't the fine line between sanity and madness gotten finer?" George Price_

By the end of her first day of classes Hermione had compiled a list summarizing three facts she had learned about Tom Riddle.

1. Tom Riddle was a genius. Really, it was ridiculous how smart the stupid dark lord junior turned out to be. Never, never had someone beat Hermione to answer a question. Tom just had to blurt out the answer seconds before she did. It was thoroughly embarrassing, even though no one in this era was aware that she was supposed to be the smartest student in her class. She may have to resort to low tactics, like kicking the boy in the shins to distract him so she could answer first. But then he would kill her, and that would suck.

2. The first fact may be somewhat bearable if Tom Riddle didn't happen to be in every single one of her classes. She couldn't even fathom how that was possible. It wasn't like there was only one class of each subject each day. An advanced potion was taught both before lunch and after it, and yet the two managed to take it in the same time slot. Same went for every other stinking subject. So no matter where she was going, he would be there. She was going to have a word with Dumbledore on this one, see if it were possible to switch into some different time slots. There's only so much baby-Voldy a girl can handle.

3. Even when she wasn't in class the teen-who-must-not-be-named managed to invade her life. Hermione figured she must have a giant post-it note on her forehead that said, "Help me. I'm stupid and need to be constantly accompanied by evil Head Boys." Tom Riddle had followed her everywhere. He sat beside her in every class, walked her around the premises, insisted she sit with him at the Hufflepuff table at lunch while he broke up a fight between two second years, and even waited outside the girl's lavatory for her when she excused herself from Transfiguration for a bathroom break. If she were a career councillor she'd advise him to give up his dreams of world domination and become a stalker, he was that good.

Needless to say something had to give. While on one hand, being constantly around Riddle would give Hermione the opportunity to learn more about him and study his weaknesses, she'd probably kill herself if this went on much longer. Her emotions hopped from scathing rage at the person she knew Tom would become to an increasing irritation with the person he was (or pretended to be) at that very moment. Hermione couldn't understand how Tom could stand himself. It was obvious to her that his real personality was not the terribly polite, smiling-so-much-I'm-going-to-get-lockjaw, super duper friendly image he radiated. That type of person does not go on to kill hundreds of innocent people. So how did he do it? Why hadn't he driven himself insane with all this buddy-buddy behaviour? (On second thought, maybe that's what made him snap and go all serial-killer wizard. Hermione was certainly feeling murderous.)

"Stop thinking." She told herself. The whole dilemma was giving her a major headache. She flipped over in her four poster bed. Morine was fast asleep on the other side of the room. Hermione was very jealous of the blissfully contented girl. "And the only thing she has to worry about is how many glow-in-the-dark invisible fleas are in the castle. Or something equally trivial and imaginary."

Eventually Hermione managed to drift off into a fitful imitation of slumber. She had several dreams that night, the majority comprised of memories from her own time but a few taking place now. It didn't matter what dream she was having, she always felt like she was being watched. Observed by a brightly glowing pair of beautiful and mesmerizing eyes.

* * *

She woke up the next morning tired and grumpy. It appeared her mood from the previous night had decided to follow her to morning. It didn't help that someone had to haunt even her dreams. By the time she left the Gryffindor common room she had worked herself into a significant rage.

"Morning Hermione." Tom Riddle stood up from the statue of some knight he had been sitting on. He closed his book with a snap, eyeing her cheerfully. "Sleep well?"

The girl bit her lip, walking past him without responding or even looking his way. He remedied that by jumping in front of her path, giant smile on his face. "The notorious morning hater strikes again. You'd better watch out or people might start avoiding you."

"I wouldn't mind if you started to avoid me." Hermione hissed under her breath.

Tom didn't appear to hear her. Or, more likely, he heard her and decided to ignore her words and carry on in his annoying ways. "Did you finish all your homework from Ancient Runes last night? I was wondering if we could go over it at breakfast..."

Hermione got to spend the entire first meal of the day with Tom. He followed her around just as doggedly as the day before. By the time lunch came around she had decided it was time to intervene.

"I thought I could show you the Black Lake today." Riddle was saying. "We could grab some food and eat it outside. It's such a nice day."

"Actually," Hermione interrupted, "there were some things I needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore about. But don't let me stop you-I'll see you after lunch in potions." She tried to make her escape down the first corridor on her right.

"Nonsense! We can't have our new student wandering the halls of Hogwarts by herself." Tom caught up with her quickly.

It took a bit of convincing to get Tom to stay outside the classroom so she could talk to Dumbledore in private. He looked slightly pissed when she eventually went inside and Hermione remembered that Riddle was never the professor's favourite person. It appeared the feeling was mutual. "Hurry up then." Tom called after her, his voice containing a slight bit less cheerfulness than usual.

After some casual small talk and the offering of a lemon drop, Hermione started into the reason she was visiting Dumbledore. "He's driving me crazy." Hermione confided in the professor. "He goes everywhere I go. It's getting ridiculous. Isn't there any way I can switch some of my classes?"

"I'm afraid not. Everything is full." Dumbledore leaned forwards. "Besides, I can't see Tom's behaviour continuing on like this forever. After all, it is the Head Boy's duty to insure all new students are settled into this school nicely. The prefects deal more with the younger grades and you're the only transfer this year so his attentions all on you. In a week or so I'm sure he'll leave you alone."

Hermione hoped so. As she exited the office she almost ran into a slightly off balance Tom. "Were you listening at the door?" she asked incredulously.

"No." Was that a hint of attitude she detected in his voice? It vanished quickly as he beckoned her to follow him. "Let's go or we're going to miss whatever they're serving for lunch."

Hermione followed wearily. She'd give him a week, and if he was still dragging her around by then something would have to be done.

* * *

Three days later she snapped. She didn't mean to, didn't think she actually would. Hermione had always prided herself on being in control of her emotions. In the end all it took was a little event to bring her usually-well contained anger to boil.

In potions they were working in pairs to prepare a sleeping draught (three guesses at who she was forced to work with). It was a recipe Hermione had made before back in her old time. She was chopping up mandrake root carefully when Tom suddenly appeared at her shoulder. "Let me help you with that knife." He offered.

"I'm doing okay on my own, Tom." Her voice was even.

Tom slid the knife from her fingers. "I'll finish up for you."

Hermione clenched her fists. "I'm fine."

"I don't think-"

She interrupted him. "I know what I'm doing!" Several students turned to stare at the unfolding scene. Hermione glared at them.

"Your temper is unnecessary, Granger. I was merely trying to help." His voice was filled with authority. It was the final straw.

"That's it." Hermione hissed. She dragged Tom up to Professor Slughorn's desk. "Sir, I feel slightly ill. Permission to visit the hospital wing?"

The professor barely looked up from his mountain of paperwork. "Go ahead."

Hermione forgot who she was with as she pulled an amused Riddle out of the classroom. If she had stopped to think she would have reconsidered potentially angering someone who could (and potentially might) kill her. At the time the only thing running through her brain was putting a stop to his intrusive behaviour.

She kept walking, looking blindly around for a spot where the two might have some privacy. She eventually ended up at the door of an abandoned classroom. She stomped through the doorway, waiting for it to shut fully before wheeling on her companion. "What was that back there?"

Tom managed to keep that absurdly stupid smirk on his face as he responded lightly, "just trying to help you out."

"I am fully capable of something as basic as chopping plants!" Her voice was rising. "I don't need you playing hero and doing it all for me. Why do you think I'm in advanced potions anyway?"

"I'm aware of your intelligence." He seemed to consider his words before responding. "Headmaster Dippet asked me to keep an eye on you, make sure your transition to Hogwarts goes as smoothly as possible."

Hermione slammed a hand down on the desk in front of her. "Well, you can stop now. I'm transitioned, okay? Stop interfering in everything I do." She took a deep breath, calming down. "And you don't need to follow me around anymore. I know where I'm going."

The boy had to be irritated, if not full out mad. Hermione knew he wouldn't like being told what to do by some random student. Whatever his feelings were, he hid them well. "I'm glad you have adjusted to life at this school. In the future if you have any questions you may direct them to me." He sighed for effect. "Next time please express your emotions in a more discrete manner. It is considered rude to interrupt a class with loud conversation." With a final nod in her direction he made his way out the door. "I will inform the Professor that you have visited the hospital wing and will not be returning to class. However, I expect to see you in Tranfigurations. Good day, Hermione."

And then he was gone. Hermione found she could finally breathe again. She couldn't believe her outburst-had she really yelled at Tom Riddle? Anger quickly faded to fear. Would he try to get back at her for this? She had lost her temper with the most dangerous student at school. Hopefully he would let it pass. He seemed polite enough when he left, but how much of that was an act?

Later in Tranfigurations she noticed Tom still sat next to her, however, the two did not exchange more words than was necessary. Instead of the constant chatter she had grown accustomed to she was met with sweet silence. He remained polite but did not make an effort to entertain the girl. Hermione was thankful. Finally she could actually concentrate on her work without consistent interruptions.

At dinner that evening Hermione spotted the Head Boy seated at the Slytherin table. He did not beckon her over to sit with him, or even make eye contact. Tom seemed immersed in conversation with a blond boy. Hermione made her way over to the Gryffindor table, sliding in between some random student and Morine. The latter immediately began telling her about some bright orange slug that became invisible on Saturdays. For the first time in what seemed to be an incredibly long time Hermione relaxed.

She wasn't sure how Tom would react to her display that day, but she pushed her worries on the issues out of her mind. She had managed to ditch him and that in itself was a huge relief. Tonight she would focus on other things so that her brain would be fresh for the battle to come.


	5. Hallucinations

Here's chapter 5! As promised, the plot begins to thicken :) thanks for all the wonderful reviews, they put me in such a great mood that I had to stay up late and publish this. I can't decide whether to write a chapter in Tom's point of view (let me know if you'd be interested) As usual, review and **_enjoy!_**

I hear that there's this book called Harry Potter and its awesome and amazing and wonderful ext ext ext

Too bad I don't own it :(

* * *

_**Hallucinations**_

_Truth is beautiful, without doubt; but so are lies" Ralph Waldo Emerson  
_

"I have a question." Morine asked over breakfast one morning. It was a bright out that day, sunlight streaming through the Great Hall's massive windows and sprinkling over the tables within. Hermione barely heard what her friend was saying. She was lost in her thoughts, watching the sunbeam motes dance over her spoon. Shine, flip the spoon. Shine, flip the spoon again. Repeat.

"Hermione?" the blond girl poked her to get her attention.

"Hmm?" Looking up dazedly she noticed Morine's pained expression. "Sorry, I missed that."

Morine looked pointedly in the direction of the Slytherin table, where a certain heir of Salazar was seated. He looked deeply intrigued with whatever book he was reading, a ratty old thing that was a deep crimson. Hermione could barely make out scraggily gold lines that she knew would form letters if she could just get a closer look. Still, from this distance she knew that it wasn't a book she had read before. She briefly wondered what it was about.

"Why isn't Tom following you around anymore?" Morine piped in. "He went everywhere with you for a while there."

It had been a week since Hermione had lost her temper with the Head Boy. Since that day he had treated her with a detached sort of politeness. At the beginning of their first class together each day he'd give her a brief greeting of "morning," or just smile offhandedly at her. The two wouldn't speak unless it was required after that. When the bell rang he'd pick up his books and leave quickly. No more escorting her around the grounds or inviting her to eat meals with him. (Not that this was a terrible loss.) Hermione had been weary at first that he would try to take revenge or her for her defiant behaviour, but it appeared that this wasn't in his plans. Hopefully he had just brushed her off as a kid with a big mouth and little sense that wasn't worth his time to set straight.

"He was just there to make sure I was comfortable at this school." Hermione responded, dipping her spoon in a bowl of steaming porridge. "I picked up the basics pretty fast." She took a sip and coughed on the hot cereal. Luna patted her back as she chocked, sputtering for a bit before her windpipe cleared. Once she could breathe again Hermione finished gravelly. "I told him that I didn't want to waste his time and that he was free to go back to his normal duties." Well, that was basically what she had said, minus the slamming desk part and the yelling.

Morine took her story at face value. Thankful for this, Hermione promptly changed the subject. "Beautiful outside, isn't it?"

"The shadows are more purple than blue today." Morine pointed to the floor at the shadow the table was creating. It looked normal to Hermione, its typical grey. "Means there's a storm coming."

"I see." She defiantly didn't, but why argue? The girls chatted for a few more minutes before Morine excused herself. Hermione went back to her abandoned porridge only to find it cold and conglomerated. Incredibly unappealing. She reached towards a pot only to have it vanish in front of her. Everything else on the table followed suit. The blank wood seemed to mock her. "To slow." It cackled in her mind. "Breakfast is over."

"See if I care. I can hold out until lunch." Hermione hissed at it. A couple of Ravenclaw girls walking by giggled at her outburst. Hermione felt her face flush bright red as she gathered up her bags and headed towards her classroom. It was at times like this that she really missed having her two best friends around. Sure, Morine was nice and all but she just wasn't Harry. And she could lose her temper at tables as much as she wanted but it would never whip sad-but-trying-to-be-witty comebacks at her like Ron. Hermione resolved to finish up in the past as quickly as she could so that she could work on fixing the time turner and go back to where she belonged.

Later the same day in transfigurations a loud boom interrupted Dumbledore's lecture on turning teacups into animals. Hermione was slightly impressed with Morine's earlier prediction. She might have to actually pay more attention to what the dreamy-eyed girl was saying, apparently. There was a bright flash of light before the rain began to fall in torrents. The noise of the falling water created a low hum, drowning out the voices of the students at other desks. The only thing Hermione could hear now was the light tip-tap of Tom Riddle's wand against the desk, which remained at a constant tempo and was actually (though she would never admit it to his face) quite relaxing. It didn't take her long at all to conjure up the complicated spell that transformed her delicate china teacup into a tiny mouse.

Tom of course (being super genius and all) was right behind her. He murmured an incantation and his teacup began to stretch and reform. It took a moment for Hermione to decipher what it would become, but when it was finished she rolled her eyes. Of course.

The teacup had not only managed to change color, it had also grown immensely in size. That was no small feat, as the object created is usually made from an original object of approximately equal volume. It generally took hours of practice to perform what Tom had done on his first try. As the new snake on the table stretched out, Tom glanced up at Hermione. Was she imaging things or did it look like his eyes hold a challenge?

While she was distracted, the life she had recently created came to a violent end. Hermione heard a terrified squeak before looking down just in time to see the snake unhinge its jaw and strike in a motion almost too fast for the girl to follow. Just like that the mouse was gone. The snake looked rather pleased with itself. It curled into a tight ball and started the long process of digestion.

"Nice going." Hermione fixated the Head Boy with a stare.

Tom shrugged, waving his wand offhandedly at the snake. It disappeared in a puff of smoke. "It's not my fault that what I can create is superior to your attempts."

"You saw I had transfigured a mouse. Wouldn't it have been smart or your part to make something with less of an appetite?" She couldn't resist trying to win him over with logic.

The boy snorted (not very politely, Hermione might add). "Darwin's law," Tom smirked, "states that only the fittest will survive." As he said the last bit he made an effort to look her directly in the eyes, fixating her with a gleam that was almost...predatory. "I'm afraid that puts you on the bottom of the food chain." Looking away, his smile changed to its trademark friendly. "But don't worry, 99% of the population is where you are. It's only expected."

"Stupid supremacist." Hermione thought to herself. Out loud she countered his words lightly. "We'll see. Next time I'll be the one who beats you, Riddle."

"Will you?" he teased, pulling out the book she had seen him reading at breakfast. "I very much look forward to that encounter." He turned his chair away from Hermione and started flipping pages.

Hermione grabbed another teacup and practiced turning it into an animal until the class finished. To her great frustration she only managed to create small creatures. She resolved to practice the spell until she rivalled I-wish-I-didn't-know-who.

The last class of the day was Care for Magical Creatures. Since it didn't take place in a classroom Hermione thought it would be cancelled. To her surprise the young professor had other plans. "I've got an interesting lesson planned for today." Professor Marywart told her drenched class as they huddled in the rain outside the forbidden forest. "We'll be observing a very shy creature that can only come out at night or during heavy rainstorms because of a property of its skin that causes it to burn in sunlight. Can anyone tell me what creature that might be?"

"Pigmy elves." Riddle answered milliseconds before Hermione could speak. The girl tsked slightly, but truth be told she was starting to get used to this.

"Excellent." Marywart beamed. "Ten points to Slytherin. Now, I want you all to pair up. We'll be going into the forest today and I don't want anyone getting separated.

Tom was at Hermione's side before the professor could finish talking. The girl was slightly taken back-for the last week the Head Boy had avoided working as her partner. Why would he bother sidling up to her now? She didn't have time to think on the matter further because the class had started off into the forest. They had to jog to catch up.

The rain let off some inside the trees. Even so, Hermione found her vision slightly impaired by a light mist. She felt herself shivering, more from the dank atmosphere than from cold (even though it was freezing). The Forbidden Forest never failed to creep the girl out. Pretty much every single time she had entered it on some whim of Harry's several awful things had happened. It didn't comfort Hermione that her best trip inside had nearly resulted in her becoming the meal of a giant spider. On her list of what not to do with spare time, visiting the forest ranked second only to having an encounter with Voldemort.

It looked like today she was going to get to do both. Lovely.

She sent a side glance at Tom. He looked very calm-no surprise there. She figured he probably enjoyed spending time in dark, depressing places. One of the perks of being a Dark Lord- there is nothing more terrifying than oneself.

He sensed her eyes on him and stopped. He waited until the pair in front of them was out of earshot before tugging on Hermione's arm. "I know a better place to watch Pigmy elves." He whispered, dragging her away from the path the rest of the class was taking.

Hermione tried to pull the other way, but he was too strong. Tom just yanked on her arm harder and she tumbled after him. "I don't think we should separate ourselves-"she protested. He ignored her, following a direct route away from everyone else and seemingly without logic. "Do you even know where you're going?"

"Is Hermione Granger scared?" the boy taunted, words laced with tiny barbs. "Too afraid of the big bad woods? So much for the fabled Gryffindor bravery." He smirked.

"I am not afraid." Hermione protested. "It's just that it would be easy to get lost in here, and I'm cold, and lost and cold do not mix pleasantly."

Tom let go of her arm and continued walking. "Do whatever you want," he called over his shoulder, apparently not caring which way she would choose. "I for one am interested in furthering my education so that I continue to be the most intelligent student in my grade."

Hermione paused for a brief moment. She hated the mocking tone in his voice, and hadn't she decided to do what she could to one-up him in class? Passing on a learning opportunity was not the way to beat the Head Boy. And besides-looking around at her surroundings, very quickly growing darker as night advanced- as much as she wanted to stay with the group her desire to head back by herself was even less. Hermione made up her mind. "Wait!" she called, running to catch up with Tom. He didn't stop.

He seemed to be walking increasingly fast. No matter how quickly she moved she wasn't able to catch up with the boy. Hermione began to run- and tripped over an exposed root. "Tom!" she hollered, barely able to see him anymore. "TOM!" However, he didn't stop. Hermione pulled herself off the ground, trying in vain to wipe the mud from her robes. No such luck-she was a complete mess. She looked to see if the boy had stopped to wait for her when something bizarre occurred. A mist seemed to flow out of the ground, darkened, becoming opaque before her disbelieving eyes. Hermione stretched a hand out in front of her and could barely make out the shape of her fingers.

"Don't panic." She told herself. "Panicking will get you nowhere." She had to deal with the situation rationally to prevent herself from becoming even more lost than she already was. Hermione racked her brain, trying to think of the wilderness survival advice her real mother had taught her as a child when she was camping. Step one: remain where you are. Hermione forced herself to sit down on the damp earth. It wouldn't be a good idea to go wondering off, especially when she couldn't see. Step two: hug a tree. Hermione didn't see much point in that second point except to keep someone where they were (not getting more lost.) She had no clue where the surrounding trees were so she clung to her wand even tighter (made of wood so actually not that different from a tree, minus the spell casting abilities). Third-holler for help. Hermione almost grinned-she could one up her mother's logic on that one. Lifting her wand above her head she cast bright blue sparks high into the sky. She couldn't see them after they left her wand because of the fog but she knew they'd be up there somewhere, hovering for a few minutes before dissipating. It would be nearly impossible for the class not to notice the blatant call for assistance, let alone Tom who must still be nearby. She wondered if he had also gotten caught up in the mist. Either way, these led her to the final step- just sit pretty and wait for someone to rescue you. Hermione planned to do just that. She wiggled around to get as comfortable as she could on the hard ground before leaning back on her hands and waiting.

She didn't have to wait long before heavy footfalls nearby echoed in the muffling fog. Hermione released the breath she didn't realize she was holding and starting shouting to get attention. "Help! I'm over here!" There was no response as the sound of feet stilled. "Hello! Can you hear me?" Whatever had found her chose this moment to answer. Hermione's heart dropped into her sneakers as a low guttural growl permeated the air, setting it into a terrifying vibration. Everything was quiet for a second after that. Hermione froze in place in place, praying whatever manner of beast was nearby was as completely immobilized by blindness as she was. Fate proved yet again that it really didn't care for the girl when the footsteps began again approaching her. Hermione was stuck-she she stay still and hope the creature would miss her or blindly bolt? Both options seemed useless as the beast apparently had the ability to track her location, and how could she fight against an enemy that was invisible?

Eventually the beast made up her mind for her. With volume that sent light tremors into the ground, it let out a screech. The pitch was high enough that Hermione could only hear the piercing edge as sound waves assaulted her eardrums. The air around the girl shifted and rolled, turning over itself as the vibrations hit with a constant barrage. Hermione's mind was racing as the sound subsided. Planning to slip away as quickly as possible (rather-if possible), the girl carefully rose to her feet.

The fog was heavier at head level, and Hermione sucked a mouthful into her lungs. Her brain registered a brief moment of confusion as the vapour seared her tongue with the taste of metallic chemicals before it reached her lungs. The result was instantaneous. It felt as if her chest was on fire. Tears streaking down her face, she attempted to draw oxygen inside and clear her passageways. Instead, the fog seemed to fill her entire head and all rational thought was driven away. Hermione began to run, slamming into trees at full speed and slicing any exposed skin on branches. Her brain told her to keep going, to get as far away from the beast as possible. In a brief moment of clarity certain thoughts surfaced. "Why are you running?" they asked Hermione. "You have to stop and try to get your bearings. You'll have no defence against that thing if you knock yourself unconscious." And then "Why can't I control my legs? They keep on going..." As quickly as the words were registered they were swept away. Something about the fog kept Hermione in a frenzied daze. They only thing that mattered was getting away.

The footsteps were getting louder now. Hermione could feel their rhythm through the soles of her shoes as her chaser quickly gained on her. It was close; she could feel its breathing on the back of her neck, see glowing red eyes burning into the back of her skull. She knew she only had moments before it would catch up with her, devour her, here in the darkness where she could not fight back. A voice murmured seductively in her head, telling her to run just a little further, and then she'll be safe-

"Hermione!" The call was urgent, terrified. With all the wind rushing by and the voice in her head, the girl didn't hear. "Hermione, slow down!"

A few more steps, the voice inside whispered. You're almost there-wham. Hermione tripped over an upturned stone, slamming into the forest floor. The impact sent the voice right out of her head. Thought returned to her as she rolled over, preparing to face the beast that was surely coming.

It never came. Slowly the fog began to melt into the ground, running in tiny rivers to some spot behind the girl. The clump of bushes in front of Hermione parted noisily to reveal a flushed and much relieved Professor Marywort. "Merlin." The teacher sighed, straightening her dishevelled robes. "Did you have to run?"

Hermione took a moment to collect her thoughts. What had happened to the strange creature that had been pursuing her? Her heart was still beating loudly as she responded. "The roar-that creature was right behind me!" she looked at the professor desperately. "Where did it go? Did you destroy it?"

"I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about." Marywart stated. "Must have been a figment of your imagination, my dear. A thick mist can play tricks on the senses. What I don't understand is why you ran. You called to us and just as we found you, for whatever reason, you found it necessary to bolt. Didn't anyone ever tell you to stay put if you get lost?" The lady snorted softly. "You're lucky I ran into Tom. He led me to the last place he had seen you."

For the first time Hermione noticed the Professor was not alone. From behind Marywart a figure stepped forward, his shadow-like appearance solidifying in the moons light. "Hermione!"

She had to admit he sounded genuinely concerned about her. As the Professor started into a lecture about wilderness safety, Tom rushed forwards and graciously helped Hermione to her shaking feet. She looked up at his face to read his expression and was shocked silent. His trade-mark smile was stretched into the smallest grimace, and his eyes looked almost angry. Tom's words belayed this fact as he continued to gush, brushing the cakey mud off the girl as best he could. "I was so worried about you Hermione. I turned around to make sure you were still following me and you were just gone!" the boy put a little bit too much emphasis on this last word. "And then there was all this fog and I couldn't see anything."

"Right." Marywart interrupted. "Now that we've got this whole mess sorted out I would like the two of you to return to the castle immediately. "Hermione, I will be taking 30 points from Gryffindor because of your failure to stay with a designated partner. Next time I hope you will listen to my instructions." The Professor began fighting through the underbrush, back the same way she had come.

Hermione moved to follow but the Head Boy caught her sleeve. "Not so fast." His tone was even.

The girl ripped her arm away. "I don't think so." She hissed. Her breathing not yet steady, she fixated him with the strongest glare her flustered form could muster. "This is entirely your fault. You had to decide to separate from everyone else, because you can do things so much better." But of course, no teacher would ever put blame on the shoulders of Tom Riddle. No, the boy was perfect.

"Hmm." Riddle mused, "I wasn't the one who bolted at the first sign of trouble." He stepped closer to Hermione, attempting to intimidate the girl. In her current state it worked very effectively. Hermione fought not to break the Boy's gaze as he continued, his tone of voice considerably darker than before and laced with something she couldn't identify. "You should have seen your face." Tom whispered. "You were so pale when the Professor called out to you, returned your pitiful cries for help." He stepped back and drew his wand, idly twirling it by his fingertips. Hermione would have thought that the increased distance between them would prove comforting, but it only made him seem so much more imposing. "And then you ran so fast it was like something evil was chasing you. Why did you run, Hermione?" He didn't give her time to respond. "It was like you were possessed." And then his eyes met hers, and they blazed with the same intensity that the beast's had. "It was like you lost control."

Hermione wanted to argue with him, to tell him that at no time had she been unable to control her actions. But that would be a lie, and staring into his eyes she found herself unable to do so. She recalled with a shutter the moment when her motor functions shut down and some power took control of her feet, sending her forward according to its own will. And that voice- that sweet, velvety voice that charmed her and made her believe every word it said. Something in the mist had stolen her wits away. Though she did not want to admit it, there was no way she could deny it.

The blaze in Tom's eyes faded, returning to their normal green glow. Triumph radiated from him strongly, everything from his eyes to his stance and the way he stashed his wand in his robes revealed this fact. He felt he had won something, though Hermione couldn't fathom what that could be. He took her shoulders beneath his hands and spoke almost too softly for Hermione to make out the words. "Losing control can be fatal."

He spun her around roughly and Hermione gasped. Not two feet away from the spot she had landed after tripping, the ground fell away in a sharp vertical wall. Hermione approached the edge and peered downwards. She instantly felt sick. The dry bottom of an old river stared up at her from no less than 25 feet below. Sharp stones littered the ravine like spikes in a pit. Hermione understood with growing dread that she had been a few quick steps away from breaking her neck if lucky, probably a much worse fate. If she hadn't fallen when she did her body would be lying there now, broken and bloodied and probably deceased.

She felt the pressure on her skin release as Tom turned away from her, heading in the same direction Marywart had gone. Hermione followed him slowly, her mind in a daze. It had been such a near miss with death and the cause of it was apparently insanity. There had been no beast- but Hermione knew that she couldn't have imagined that earth-shattering roar, the chasing footsteps, rank breath tickling her neck. Something about the whole thing was wrong...she was so deep in her thoughts that her brain did not register that with each step Tom took, tendrils of fog reached from the forest floor to cling tightly to his boots.


	6. Illness and Confrontations

Chapter 6- finally. Sorry this took me so long to write! I was trying to find the best way to transition into the next events I have planned. So enjoy :) Oh, and this is the revised version. You may have read the one I put out about an hour back but I read through and freaked out at all the mistakes and felt the need to add some more stuff in- so this is the finished, revised version.

I have some news. I will be away for the next two weeks so will be unable to update until I have returned (which is why this chapter is so short-I wanted to publish something before I left). On the bright side, I'll have plenty of time to write some stuff up...so it kind of works out =)

Anywho, I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

**_Illness and Confrontations_**

_"You can take from every experience what it has to offer you. And you cannot be defeated if you just keep taking one breath followed by another" Oprah Winfrey  
_

Hermione leaned over the seat of the toilet for the umpteenth time, sending the sparse contents of her heaving stomach into the bowl. Grimacing, she fell backwards against the stony cold wall. She drained a plastic cup of water, trying to wash down the acrid taste of vomit, but it was quickly replaced with the bitter tang of chemicals that had been plaguing her since the incident in the forest earlier that evening. Splayed haphazardly around her on the floor were various books, both magic and muggle in origin. The girl scanned them quickly, looking for something she may have missed, anything that may put an end to the nausea. She had been thorough however, and there were no tricks left to try.

Groaning, Hermione racked her brain for the answer-what had caused the sickness? It wasn't something as simple as food poisoning (there was a spell to counteract that which the girl had tried an hour before to no avail) and she didn't have any of the symptoms that accompanied the flu so that was also out of the question. By eliminating all other possibilities she was left with one last answer, something very bizarre but fitting, considering the strange events that had taken place previously.

As in response to the girl's thoughts, a wave of searing heat moved from her lungs to fill her head before burning its way past her lips. Hermione experienced a brief moment of light-headedness, and she knew the ever present nausea would intensify soon. The whole ordeal was very orderly- this reinforced her belief that the illness was not natural. It wasn't created by some bug or bacteria, or from a poisonous plant she had managed to prick herself on-the cause must be magical.

She suspected the fog. When the girl had inhaled it earlier, it had caused her whole being to feel like it was on fire, had caused her brain to go fuzzy and left Hermione feeling dizzy and disoriented. Now it was like remnants of the fog were still in her system, and her body was trying to expel it (through very unpleasant means). Seconds before she was sick each time she felt like she had felt in the forest. For a moment there was a sense of blind terror and confusion before instinct took over and the vapour was gone, leaving in its place its distinct flavour.

Okay, so the randomly appearing fog was magicked. But that conclusion came with many more questions- like who conjured it and why it was there. It wasn't as if sudden-yucky-tasting-fog-that-makes-you-hear-seductive-voices-and-almost-run-off-cliffs was common or anything. In fact, Hermione had never heard of that kind of spell before (and she considered herself very well read). And then there was the matter of the realistic but maybe not actually real beast. The professor had insisted that it was just a figment of her imagination but Hermione wasn't buying it. Everything was just too real to be a hallucination. Her ears were still ringing from the pitch of its howl, and ears don't ring for nothing. So the strange creature had to exist; it only made sense. Harder to figure out was why the beast had mysteriously disappeared. One moment it had been on her heels, its rancid breath on the back of her neck and then it was gone. Just like that, absolutely no explanation and leaving her looking like a raving lunatic in front of her teacher and Tom.

Speaking of Tom- the girl figured he had to be in the same shape she was. He must've been stumbling in the fog for the same amount of time that she had been and therefore should have inhaled quite a bit of it himself. Hermione felt a brief moment of glee at the thought of the future Dark Lord puking his guts out. It would serve the stupid boy right, especially after his antics that evening. "Losing control can be dangerous." She scoffed, copying his words. Like he was one to talk- one could argue that his becoming Voldemort and going on countless killing sprees was a much worse example of losing control than merely become subject to a random spell. And his behavior- like he knew something about the situation and was aware she wasn't crazy but enjoyed making her feel rotten anyway. She figured it would be useless to go to him at this point and demand answers. She'd need to find some hard evidence first that the beast was real and then confront Tom, make him give up the information he was obviously withholding. The next day (granted she was feeling better, of course), Hermione decided she'd head back into the forest to search for some clue to prove she wasn't crazy. The beast would have left proof of its existence, perhaps a footprint or a clump of fur caught in the closely grown trees.

Her plan was cut short as another wave of nausea hit.

* * *

Hermione worked her way down to the great hall in a stupor. Her seat beckoned at the other end, and the girl wobbled towards it with blind determination. The sounds of morning clatter blended together in one large crescendo, pounding in her ears. And why were the lights so bright? Hermione had never been drunk, but she imagined that this was as close as one got to a hangover possible without actually consuming alcohol.

"Morning!" Morine exclaimed cheerfully Hermione gingerly sat at the bench. "You look absolutely horrible. Blue-Eyed Whisnots been keeping you awake?"

"No." Hermione mumbled groggily, as she stabbed a few pancakes with her fork and moved them to her plate. She picked up the syrup and began to pour. "I was sick to my stomach."

"Ugh." Sympathized Morine. "That's an awful lot of syrup, by the way."

Hermione lifted the bottle quickly, eying the brown puddle on her plate with a sigh. The girl hadn't slept a wink the night before and the after-effects were already looking severe. She could tell she'd be out for the count all day.

"You're a really grumpy person, did you know that?" Morine piqued in, her voice conversational.

"Am not!" Hermione intoned quickly. Upon further examination however, the girl had to admit that since arriving in the past she had been rather grumpy. Something about living in a year decades before she was born and being forced to face the enemy of the future on a day to day basic was not conductive to good moods. She made a mental note to take some time later to read- an action Hermione always found calming. Hopefully that would be enough to bring her back to her old self. In the meantime, there was something she had to do. "I'll see you later." Hermione told her friend, almost toppling over as she rose from the table. She wasn't in a rush to upset her just recently calmed stomach again with food and her mind was bugging her to find out the truth about the beast. If she went down to the forest now, she'd be able to search for evidence and be back again in time for her first class of the day.

Hermione rushed through the school ( a bit woozily, it was good that there were not many students in the hallway to collide with) and ran (correction- stumbled) her way across the courtyards. She plunged into the forest, following the path the class had taken. She vaguely remembered the general area that Tom had pulled her astray, and attempted to work her way along what she could only hope was his path. That's where things got a bit fuzzy- the fog had risen and she hadn't been able to see. She left her last known location and began to search the area systematically. Though the method of searching the forest square by square was thorough, it was also time consuming. She was irritated, tired, and hadn't found a single clue that would reveal the nights events. Hermione eyed her watch and noted class was scheduled to begin soon. She'd have to head back immediately or risk being late. Biting back tears of frustration, she began to pick her way back to Hogwarts. It wasn't long before she came upon something that stopped her in her tracks.

A ravine, like the one she had almost fallen into. Pulse picking up, the girl's pace sped up as she abandoned her plan to return to school to follow the winding trench. It was fairly shallow when she first came upon it but deepened quickly. Within minutes Hermione found herself stumbling into a clearing. One edge was framed by the dry riverbed, the rest closed in by trees. Directly across from her Hermione spotted a few broken branches that looks trampled. Her heart thumped as recognition pulled at her memory- this was it! She had been here before and therefore there must be clues to the existence of the beast.

She was deep in thought and unprepared for what came next. A low voice, melodic and impossibly calculating, broke into her excitement. She felt her blood, only moments ago burning with excitement, cool and freeze solid. No- of all people, why did it have to be him...

"And what might bring you here, Granger?" Amusement, clearly. But was it her imagination or did the voice sound somewhat annoyed? She forced air into her starved lungs, her brain spinning a mile a minute with questions. Why was he here? Was he looking for the same thing she was? How come he didn't look like he had been up all night, sick to his stomach? She forced herself to calm down, one thing at a time.

"I could ask you the same thing." Hermione forced her own voice to remain steady as she turned to face the speaker.

Tom Riddle smirked, eyes glinting the slightest hint of red amongst dark forest green. His black robes swirled gently in a non-existent wind, revealing his pocketed want momentarily. His profile was intimidating, powerful, dangerous. The girl faught with her legs, forcing them to stay put and not back up. She straightened her shoulders, making sure to meet his gaze. Though his mouth was upturned, Hermione was certain he was not pleased. There was a stiffness around his smile and an edge to his handsome features.

Staring her down, Tom drawled softly, "It appears that we have a dilemma."


	7. Identifying the Enemy

Hello! umm.........I feel a wee bit awkward about taking so long to update this story. I know I have no real excuse, but let me just say that this new year has brought about a lot of work and not much time for the finer things in life. Also, I was at a bit of a roadblock for this chapter. It was so hard to get right, but I'm very happy with the results.

I'm so sorry! Thanks to the readers who stayed with me, and the new readers who have joined. I'm pleased to say that fierynmusic is back in business, and you can expect regular updates! I'm excited to get back into things :)

Don't forget to review! Oh, and anyone want a chapter in Tom's point of view? Still considering the idea...

Harry Potter is not mine to own. Such a shame

* * *

**Identifying the Enemy**

_ "The hardest thing to learn in life is which bridge to cross and which to burn." David Russell_

Staring her down, Tom drawled softly, "It appears that we have a dilemma."

Hermione shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. She hated the way he looked at her, pinning her in his sights, preparing to shoot her down. "Now," she mumbled quickly, staring at the forest floor, "I wouldn't go so far as to say that."

"Really?" The boy's voice was light, conversational. "Well, I'd personally have to disagree."

"Shame. Well, we can't let a difference of opinion prevent us from getting to class on time." Hermione's gaze rose from the leaves, scanning the clearing. A way out-that's what she needed. She found it, a small trail leading back into the forest. The recon find-cause-of-strange-mind-twisting-stomach-upsetting mist would have to wait until some other time. The presence of Tom made her (understandably) uncomfortable. Hermione brushed past him as quickly as she could.

"I think you might be in a lot of trouble." His voice was two toned, at once silky and soft while at the same time dark. It drew shivers from the girl as she stopped in her tracks. He elaborated, giving a reason for his words. "You realize it is forbidden for students to enter this forest without the guide of a professor?"

"Special circumstances." Hermione's breath hitched. There was something in Tom's voice that hinted that she was in another kind of trouble. Something far worse than a mere detention.

Riddle sighed dramatically, pulling his wand from his robe and twirling it idly. Each brush and sweep of the dark wood caused the girl in front of him to tremble. "What is so special about your case, Ms. Granger?"

The edge in his voice caused Hermione to snap. Without considering the consequences (an action she'd later blame on severe lack of sleep) the girl lifted her head to glare into his relentless gaze. "You should know." Hermione hissed, her fear momentarily forgotten in favour of anger. "Last night in the forest, something screwed with my mind. I think I well deserve to find out just what that was." She was left breathing raggedly, Tom just peering back with a blank expression. She continued to meet his gaze, provoking him, challenging him to argue. After what seemed like an eternity he raised an eyebrow.

"We've been over this before. It was your imagination, Granger. Just let it go."

"No!" the girl lashed out. "I need to figure this out."

Tom reached out with probing fingers, wrapping his hand around Hermione's wrist. She was stunned for an instant by the bizarre sensation his skin provided, warm at the surface but pulsing coolly. The distraction proved enough for the boy to start down the forest trail, Hermione fastened closely behind him. "I think your interest in the matter has gone far enough. Drop it." It was an order, spoken by one whom was used to being obeyed.

Hermione wasn't done with him. "Let go!" she argued, pulling against his grip without success. "You don't understand!" He continued onwards, ignoring her. Hermione's frustration level rose. "Listen to me! The fog last night was magicked, which means that it wasn't natural. Long story short, someone cast it as a spell. On purpose. I will find out what happened because the blasted thing almost got me killed!" When the last words left her mouth she squeaked, hand brought to her lips to cover them in horror. She hadn't planned on sharing her suspicions with Tom. Aside from being the younger version of the (possibly) most evil creature ever to walk the earth, something about his involvence in the matter seemed off.

Firstly, Tom had been around when the fog had risen and yet he had not been affected by the delirious confusion it wrought. He couldn't have been far away from her and should have been caught in the curse as well. And yet his senses had remained intact. To top it off, he had not only hunted down the professor but led her directly to Hermione. How did he know where Hermione was? It was dark and foggy and the forest muffled sound. And there was the slight nagging in the back of her head that told her that Tom knew a lot more then he was letting on, especially last night. Speaking of last night- the boy had appeared to be angry when he found Hermione. Why should he be mad? He wasn't the one that got in trouble with Marywart.

Her thoughts began to lead her down a dark trail. Was it possibly that Tom was mad because she was alive? Had he wanted her to fall down into that hole in the ground and impale herself on the sharp sticks at the bottom? Her heart skipped a beat as she began to hypothesize. Along that thinking, it was possible that Tom was the one who created the mist in the first place. He had led her off somewhere secluded and left her there alone. Immediately afterward the fog had appeared, and it turned out to be some magical spell. The fog almost killed her, and upon finding her alive and well the boy could scarcely contain his temper.

Did Hermione's actions warrant a death wish? When she had challenged Tom earlier that week she had initially been concerned, but he appeared to think nothing of it. As time wore on, she lapsed into a feeling of safety thinking he had dismissed the incident. It was possible that he had been concealing his fury, biding his time to seek his revenge on her. If the boy in question were anyone else Hermione would not have suspected that such a small motive could drive such rash actions, but this was the future Lord Voldemort. Yes, Hermione told herself. It was very possible that Tom Marvelo Riddle would hate her for her defiance and wish to rid himself of her presence.

The boy stopped abruptly, and Hermione slammed into his rigid back. She jumped back from him instantaneously, almost tripping over her heels as she went. She kept her gaze down as Tom spoke. "Hermione," he sounded dangerous (more so by Hermione's recent realization). "There was no one in the forest who could have cast the spell. Just the professor, you, and myself." He stared at her hard, as if trying to read her thoughts, her response to his words, find a hint of suspicion in her down turned face. Discovering nothing, his voice rose. "Look at me when I am speaking to you."

Hermione fought against the command. It leaked at the edges of her mind, tugging at her brain as it tried to make her obey. Riddle's voice struck at her memory, and she realized it was starting to have the same affect on her wits as the voice from the night before. Horrified the girl concentrated on staying alert, on not giving in. She mustn't look into his eyes, because then he would use Legilimacy and know she suspected him. That knowledge would get her killed.

"Look at me!" Tom growled impatiently. Her grabbed the girl roughly by the chin and yanked her up to eyelevel.

Hermione shut her eyes tightly and shoved at Riddle with all her strength. He appeared to be taken by surprise and released her captive wrist immediately. The instant she was free she turned and bolted down the path. Her heart was beating fast enough to cause her pain but she didn't stop, not until the castle was sight. Turning quickly to scan the forest behind her, Hermione didn't see any movement. Tom had apparently decided not to pursue her. While an initial wave of relief flushed through her body, her mind issued a warning. The boy was not gone for good. In fact, his presence was tightly intertwined in her life. She would have to be on her constant guard now, because Tom had already tried to kill her once and now that he suspected she knew about his murder attempt, he would undoubtedly try to again. Riddle was not the type of person to let someone get away with besting him for long.

Shivering, the girl headed towards the castle. She needed a new plan, needed some way to escape. It was too dangerous now that Tom had a personal vendetta. She'd need to talk to Dumbledore, see if he'd fixed her time turner so that she could escape this time.

By the time Hermione found the professor's office she'd had a bit of time to cool off, to think. Her head was torn- on one hand; it was dangerous to stay where Riddle could easily destroy her. However, what future would the girl be returning too? Voldemort had succeeding in creating a doomsday vehicle. In her own time, the island of Britain was sinking below the ocean. In no way would the destruction stop until everything was obliterated. Going back now would insure the success of the dark lord's plan. Hermione was the last hope.

The girl groaned loudly. A few choice words slipped from her mouth as she paced back and forth in the corridor, weighing options and values and likely scenarios. Hermione danced around the obvious decision for several minutes before giving in. She would have to stay here, in the past. Going home would be futile. As much as she didn't like the idea, she knew she'd be trading one death for another. At least in the past she had a chance. She'd have to take on Riddle soon, before he had a chance to get to her. It was the only way to save the future.

Taking a deep breath, Hermione surrendered to the inevitable. She dusted herself off, straightened her shoulders, and began the trek to her first period class. All the while she spun plans, weaving the tendrils into something tangible and effective. Very soon she'd have to make her move against the dark lord.


	8. Reversal of Fortune

And here we have it: chapter 8! Umm...this was promised like WAY earlier and I feel awful. PLEASE FORGIVE MY LATENESS.

This chapter is in the point of veiw of Tom Riddle! I really wanted to do a chapter like this and I think it really fits in now. A few people mentioned that they would like to see more character depth to our dear old Tom, so I am hoping this will help. (Also, more depth will come as Hermione actually spends more time in the past, obviously. They've just met and she hates him, so they're still strangers). I am REALLY excited about this chapter, I hope you like it too. Please review and tell me what you think of it :)

Hmm...The Harry Potter books are my unrequited love b/c I sooooo don't own them...

* * *

**_Reversal of Fortune_**

_"Nothing is easier than to denounce the evildoer; nothing is more difficult than to understand him." -Fyodor Dostoevsky_

He had tried to kill her. He had failed.

Tom Riddle sat perched on the edge of his four-poster bed, forehead in his hand and eyes slammed shut so tight it was beginning to give him a headache. He left them closed though, rifling through his mind and ripping through corners of his brain for some sort of clue, a reason for the failure. He was Tom Riddle, and Tom Riddle never failed.

True, he knew he overreacted about the whole incident with the new girl. Sure, she was an annoying little prick in great need of an attitude adjustment. Any sane person did NOT argue with him. They did not tell him to go away or leave them alone. But she did. Anyone else and he would have just ruined their social life or given them a good run under the cruciatus curse. All standard, all effective, but for some reason he had decided to go to extreme measures with Hermione.

It really irritated him, her behaviour. The way she'd constantly attempted to avoid him, how she'd stand as far as possible from him when he cornered her into talking, her frame trembling when he met her eyes (and not the tremble of some love-sick girl, no, this one revealed real fear). The incident in potions had been the final straw.

"Bloody hell." He muttered to himself, exhaling sharply. He had to stop this pathetic examination of the issue. It didn't matter the reasons behind his decision, only that he'd made it. He didn't need excuses to validate his behaviour. The only thing he should be concerned with was why Hermione wasn't dead.

Tom turned his attention to a roughly bound book tossed carelessly on the floor. He picked it up, delicately, absent-mindedly smoothing out creased corners. The boy turned soft pages quickly until he came to the spell he was looking for.

_Audeo Curse_

_Creates a short-range mist. Results of inhalation by non-user include hallucinations and vomiting. Allows user to control emotions to a certain degree and project images in the mind of a victim. _

He couldn't suppress a small smirk. That much had worked perfectly. Hermione had indeed been overcome by the magic, and for a short time he had possessed her reactions, created a demon only she could see and forced her muscles to obey his command. He had been so close, milliseconds away from driving her into the deep ditch (the sharp stones at the bottom were there naturally, he had to admit they made a nice touch) when mother nature decided to put a stop to his plan. It seemed that the spell was weak near ground level, and when she had fallen...

With a hiss, Tom slammed the book down on the bedside table. The reminder of failure, _his failure_ was as clear in his mind as the fluorescent gold lettering on the book. His thoughts briefly wandered as he considered the means by which he was allowed to read it, as full as it was of dark magic. One of his own creations actually, it gave the appearance of harmless, some trivial thing about transformations that would read as such to any eye other than his own. "There," a mental voice whispered consolingly. "You're not entirely useless. How many other people do you know that could perform magic like that?"

Tom stretched his legs, stood, pacing a bit. No, he couldn't let himself off the hook so easily. Failure was unacceptable in any form. Failure made something useless, and that was not something he could afford to be. He was the son of a failure and abandoned, expected to grow into the same thing. His whole life he was forgotten, unimportant, worthless. Now, finally, he was on the brink of creating something great, a life of his design in which his control was absolute. No, he couldn't fail.

Calculating a new plan quickly, the boy made up his mind. He would find the girl now, finish the job. Emblazoned, he searched behind his bed, pulling out an old wooden bucket.

_"Hquatis," _Riddle murmured softly, wand pointed at the bucket. It instantly filled to the brim with water. Malfoy had charmed the bucket back in 5th year, giving the viewer the ability to see any person within the castle walls within its depths. The bucket was intended for fellow-female-student-viewing (a practice Tom had always found disgusting, as the hormonal male's infatuation with the fairer gender was ridiculous in his mind. They were just girls.) However, it currently suited his needs. He would pinpoint the location of Hermione and hunt her down before his mind got the best of him.

Taking his wand and speaking an incantation, Tom began tracing letters in the air. "Hermione Granger." They glowed a deep crimson (he always had had a preference for the color), and with a downward swish vanished into the water. There were bubbles, the wood began to throb, and then-

Nothing. The movement and sound stopped, and the water remained crystal clear. "Revealo," he ordered it. Still nothing. A few more charms, a couple hexes, even the alohomora charm in a last ditch effort. Yet the only face staring back was his own. The sensuous lips and brilliant eyes girls longed after, the gentle smile and well-kept hair that impressed his elders, the air of intelligence and edge of cruelty his followers feared. And the nothingness, of course, the empty portions of his soul that made this appearance so _easy_ to create, so simple to maintain.

However, this was not what he wanted to see. His anger rose, temperature flared and than an explosion rocked the room. Water splattered across the carpet, wooden splinters piercing the green and silver rug and the bucket was no more. Sighing, the boy fell to his bed on his back. The temper had been significantly extinguished, but a new question had formed. The enchanted bucket had never failed to reveal a person. It had been used countless times, always effective, so why now? How come its fairly advanced magic could not locate Hermione Granger? Such a feat.....should not be possible. He couldn't think of a single reason for it's unsucessful run.

Surprisingly, he realized his desire to see Hermione dead fading as his curiosity grew. "Stop worrying yourself. She's worthless." He thought. Why waste his time on this...mild irritation when he should be foccusing on more important things, like his impending graduation from Hogwarts and his plans for afterwards. He would not let distractions get in the way of the goal. Fine, she was evading him for now, but he would deal with her in the future if need be. Slightly bothered by the fact that he had been unable to read her mind (she wouldn't keep eye contact for more than a second) he would like to probe that secret further before anything was done. And she was smart- a bit of competition was healthy for him. Ensured he didn't let his mind become lazy. He would like to watch her a bit, learn more about the girl, see what could be gained from her presence. Later he could take her life, if and when he deemed the action necessary.

In the meantime, there was more than one way to take revenge.


End file.
